


Wide Eyed

by ahhelga



Series: eye contact (viktuuri alt meets/canon divergence aus) [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Eros - Freeform, Even though there's more set up than necessary, Fluff, Grand Prix Final, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Viktor performing eros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhelga/pseuds/ahhelga
Summary: When Yuri goes to support Phichit at the GPF one year after Sochi, he doesn't know what to expect. He certainly doesn't expect gettingseducedby one Viktor Nikiforov on the ice.Part of a series in which Yuri and Viktor meet at different times other than canon.





	Wide Eyed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm all over the place with this one. I forgot how to write and kinda just went with the flow of my fingers, which explains how a fic that was supposed to be 3k doubled. Edit: keep in mind this is a 1st draft.
> 
> Blanket warnings: 1) Sorry for the whiplash, Yuri. 2) I cannot make a decision on about whether to use Yuuri or Yuri (and have reasons for using both). 3) I hardly know anything about ice skating or competitions.
> 
> Based off two Tumblr posts: [Viktor being extra 1](http://ahhelga.tumblr.com/post/156225180964/fencer-x-kisashimi-fencer-x) and [Viktor being extra 2](http://ahhelga.tumblr.com/post/159927135029/victor-gives-a-finnick-odair-speech-and-is-like).

Sometimes in life, you are hit with the sudden realization that you have absolutely no awareness of what's going on (or who you are, or your state of being, or whether or not you actually existed in the first place). 

At least, that's what ends up happening to Yuri at the GPF.

Yuri figured something big would happen at this GPF; this was, after all, his first time watching live, in a way, and he would be watching Viktor Nikiforov perform in the actual flesh. That was always grounds for something life changing. _After all_ , Yuri thought, _he would know. He had seen the man perform live twice now_. 

The thought shot a pang into his heart as he remembered the previous year... For so long, he had put it out of his head: the pain of losing Vicchan, the utter loss of confidence, the polite interest in his idol's face as he said, "Commemorative photo? Sure!" It was enough to make his head spin and his stomach turn. But he wasn't here for Viktor Nikiforov, and he wasn't here to linger on failed GPF attempts.

He was here to support his best friend, and watch ice skating because he was a fan, goddammit.

However, since he arrived in Barcelona, it seemed he was still being treated as a professional even though he had already been on "break" (i.e., unofficially retired) for almost a year now. The officials had let him through to the back, beyond where the regular audience stayed, so that he could be with the other ice skaters and press as they prepared for the competition later on in the day. He was surprised by how welcomed he felt, despite not even being a part of this season.

Yuri tried to busy himself by making it seem like he belonged here and wasn't just faking it, but it was hard without his companion, Phichit Chulanont. The other man was pulled away as soon as they arrived at the venue, and Yuri was left to his own devices. So he wandered a bit, not making eye contact with anyone, but still feeling the excitement of being at the GPF. Soon enough, the Cup of China gold medalist was making his way over to where Yuri was staring at a schedule of events posted on the walls of the skaters' meeting area.

"Sorry about that, Yuri," Phichit said upon reaching him. "Ciao Ciao wanted me to finish up an interview with someone from his home country."

Yuri grinned at his best friend as he continued to talk about some of the very strange questions they had asked him and how he managed to maneuver his way through his answers. The Thai skater seemed very settled in his role as a GPF finalist--more so than Yuri could ever say. Phichit had an engaging way about him that drew in the people around him; he was just so excited to be competing, as opposed to feeling nauseated at the thought. It was everything Yuri didn't have and wish he did at these competitions.

He decided it was a good thing for his break from skating. After his initial difficulty adjusting, he was able to carve a niche for himself in Hasetsu. The majority of his year was getting reacquainted with his family and hometown by helping at the inn and ice rink, and spreading the word about Minako's dance studio. It seemed that his return to Japan and Minako's reputation did bring in a slight draw from the people to the region. His family liked to joke that he would singlehandedly bring back tourism back to their town.

As a result, it was a quiet, but eventful year. 

Phichit was still talking when Yuri came back to. He felt bad for briefly zoning out, but the more he was in this room, the more he felt nervous. Even if they weren't in Sochi, the environment had all the same buzzing feeling in the air as the previous year, especially with the air of competition. He remembered that high last year before finding out the news about Vicchan, and he knew his best friend was reveling in it.

"I see you weren't listening again today," Phichit lightly scolded Yuri out of his thoughts. "Do you really enjoy beating yourself up that much?"

"Ehh? No, it's not like that!" Yuri immediately tried to amend, but realizing his voice was a bit loud as he was defending himself. "I wasn't-- I just-- I'm happy you're here and that you've made it this far is all."

The Thai skater's face softened. "That's right. And I'm going to win it!"

The Japanese man gave a shaky smile in return, suddenly aware of the brief scene he caused. He didn't want to obviously look around and see if anyone had noticed, but he couldn't help the quick glancing around.

They were both in an open multipurpose room that connected to the lockers, press area, and the entrance to the rink. There were other skaters milling about, but nobody who caught his eyes (see: Russian men with platinum hair). Instead, he apparently caught the eye of someone else's. He locked a gaze with green eyes.

"Ah - _Yuri_!"

Both Yuri and Phichit turned to the Swiss figure skater Christophe Giacometti approaching with a certain hip sway. He didn't take his eyes away from Yuri as he obscenely winked at the Japanese man.

"Mm, it's been a very long time, no?" he greeted cheerfully when he reached the two of them.

Yuri's eyes widened as Christophe suddenly pulled him in for a hug. It lasted a moment longer than he was comfortable with, his hands lingering just a little too south for Yuri's taste... It was the first time in a long time that he had been touched intimately by someone else, and he already had limited experience to begin with. 

And it was because of _Christophe Giacometti_ of all people. 

Chris kept his hands on Yuri's shoulders when he stepped back and eyed Yuri's body appreciatively. Yuri shifted under his gaze, self-conscious of the weight he put on. He knew he wasn't as heavy as he was in the beginning of the year, but he certainly wasn't as fit as he was at last year's GPF, nor as fit as the Swiss man in front of him. The man screamed sexy, so it didn't make sense that he would stare down Yuri like that. Yet... it felt like he was being scrutinized.

"Yuri," Phichit interrupted questioningly. "Do you and Christophe know each other?"

The Japanese man looked from his best friend to the Swiss man. In all honesty, they'd only met a handful of times in competition, and they had never been close. It was strange that the other man would approach him so familiarly, but he had heard stories from when he was (as if he wasn't still) following Viktor Nikiforov's life obsessively. The two of them had pretty amazing adventures according to the tabloid articles. Maybe that was because the Swiss man had a reputation for all things...inappropriate, and this may have been one of those instances.

"We've met," Yuri instead said simply.

Christophe responded with a sly smile, as if he was keeping a secret. He looked at Yuri as if to share that secret, but since his eyes couldn't actually share anything verbal, Yuri had no idea what he was giving him that look for. Then, Chris seemed to momentarily remind himself of where he was and glanced around.

"You know, Viktor was _just_ here -- hm," he said, a touch annoyed and with a hint of knowing. "But I guess I should have expected this."

"V-Viktor?!" Yuri exclaimed. "Why would you bring him up?"

Chris shot him a sympathetic glance. "Oh Yuri, you are too cruel. I knew you had distanced yourself from skating, but I didn't know you took it on a personal level."

Yuri squeaked in response. How did Chris know just how obsessive he was about Viktor?! Had it gotten out to the Swiss skater that Viktor was his idol and inspiration? That despite having momentarily stepped away from the ice competitively, he would always be enthralled by the Russian's skating? That he still wished he could be in the same vicinity as him? And was Chris trying to call him out for retiring both from his career and his interests?

Luckily, he didn't have to linger too much on it because his best friend was around to step in and interject...

"I assure you--Yuri _definitely_ wants to see Viktor today."

...Or maybe unluckily, because his friend was a traitor!

In response, the Swiss man barked out a laugh. "Oh, I am glad to hear that. Viktor'll be looking forward to seeing you." Then, he called out loudly, "That is, if he ever decides to be a man about it!"

The two Asians could only look at the European man with raised brows.

"Ah, no matter," the older man continued. "It was good seeing you nonetheless, Yuri. And you again, Chulanont. It was a pleasure to be beaten out by Southeast Asia's first gold medalist in China. Just don't expect that to happen again this time around."

Phichit only grinned in response. "We'll see! You may see the same sight on that podium again."

When Chris left after final pleasantries, Phichit abruptly turned to Yuri, his hair whipping around him as he glared at him.

"You're not telling me something," he said accusingly.

Yuri held his hands out defensively. He didn't have any idea about what happened and said just as much. "Honestly, I was as weirded out as you were."

Phichit eyed him carefully, trying to look for cracks in Yuri's face. Yuri did have an awful lying expression. A moment passed. Once he saw that Yuri was telling the truth, he relaxed and shrugged. They both wrote it off as a peculiar moment and didn't speak of it again.

It was, after all, the Grand Prix Final. Strange things were bound to happen.

Soon, in the midst of all the excitement, Ciao Ciao pulled the Thai man away to do his warm ups and exercises, and Yuri made his way out of the waiting area and to the stands to watch the other skaters begin. When he was hit with the cold air of the arena, he took in a deep breath of relief.

Now that he was an audience member this year, he could take in the sights of a professional ice skating event without having to worry about his own routines. He stepped forward slowly and found himself floor level with the ice and near the skater's resting area. Again, he was surprised he was treated by the event personnel as if he was one of the competitors, but he simply took their offerings without complaint and looked around the rink.

It was a nice change of pace to watch the hustle and bustle, from the fans in the upper levels of the stands to the skaters on the ice, to the reporters moving from station to station and heading straight for him?

Huh?

He was suddenly met face to face with a very familiar Japanese man.

Hisashi Morooka was eyeing him with a surprised expression as he took in Yuri's appearance. Feeling the lingering effects of Chris's body scan earlier, Yuri was still self-conscious of his body's state. Even though recently he had been more consistent with his ice skating practice at Ice Castle Hasetsu, he still did gain quite a bit of weight over the past year, which may alert anybody who hadn't seen him in a while. It was no wonder that the Japanese reporter would want to inspect him after all these months.

"Oh, Morooka-san, _ohayo_ ," he greeted nervously in Japanese. _"_ I wasn't expecting to see you. Shouldn't you be in the box already?"

"I'm still setting up," the reporter said dismissively, but barreled on. "Katsuki. _You_ weren't expecting _me_? I had no idea you were even going to be here. Nobody knew!"

Yuri cocked his head. "I wanted to support my former rinkmate at his first GPF."

"Yes, but none of the press got hold that you were actually going to do so. You do realize you fell off the face of the Earth after Japan Nationals?"

Yuri's face reddened in embarrassment. He was expecting this, he should have expected this, but it still made him feel all kinds of nervous to be confronted with the truth in this way. He grasped at the script he put together on the flight to Spain.

Robotically, he stated, "I have been enjoying my break from skating, and have been further considering my options for next season."

Morooka's face scrunched up. Figures the one man who consistently followed his career would catch on to the facade. He knew the other man wouldn't press too hard if he avoided the question, but honestly Yuri simply didn't know what to say. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do in his future. He didn't _want_  to retire. Skating brought him joy, an outlet, and that aspect of his life would never stop, but he had learned the year earlier that sometimes goals just couldn't be attained. It's not like he would be successful with the little talent he had.

It's not like Viktor Nikiforov would want to be on the same ice as him.

But see, there's a funny thing about expectations...sometimes they can change. And sometimes, life throws you a bone. Because several things happened at once: Morooka's scolding expression molded into surprise, Yuri felt a tingle at his spine, and a clear, accented voice called out to him clearly.

"Yu--ri."

When he heard that voice, Yuri wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting. He wasn't sure if he was expecting anything. But then again, Viktor Nikiforov did always surprise him.

Because the man was there behind him in the flesh, all dressed up in his SP outfit. His hair was swept to the side and he was made up and beautiful and ethereal. It was impossible to turn his gaze away from the ice skater. Still, the Russian had a facade of cool and collected, but Yuri could note the slightly stiff and nervous fidgeting, as if he didn't know how to approach the two Japanese men. Yuri was vaguely aware that Morooka, who had been there _last_  year when Yuri first met Viktor, was still standing next to him. He could feel the other man's curious energy as he eyed both Viktor and Yuri staring at each other.

Honestly, Yuri didn't know what to do. What was Viktor doing calling out to him? Was he in his way? Why was he looking at him so intensely?

Viktor looked nervous again, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. His mouth opened and then closed...and then opened again. When he did speak, his voice didn't waver.

"How are you?" he seemed to settle on.

Yuri's eyes bugged out at the question. What? At this point, Yuri was beginning his realization that life wasn't at all sometimes what you expected it to be. Especially when Viktor freaking Nikiforov would be looking expectantly at you.

"I'm--uhh."

Then, there was an announcement over the speakers calling all skaters to the ice. Viktor shifted nervously again before putting on a determined expression.

Suddenly, Viktor took a step forward so that he was directly in Yuri's personal space. There was no mistaking that it was done purposefully. There was no mistaking the fire in Viktor's eyes either as he leaned forward so that he was directly face to face with the man.

Yuri's face nearly exploded with heat.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a year," Viktor said seriously. "I can't push it back any longer. Please watch me on the ice today. I want you to know that--my performance...it's for you."

With that, he stepped back from Yuri, who was frozen solid, and hurried to where Yakov was yelling at him in rapid Russian. Yuri and Morooka stared as Viktor got a scolding, which had increased tenfold when the Russian coach realized just who Viktor was talking to. At Yakov saying "Katsuki" ( _that_  was something Yuri wasn't expecting to hear in Russian, yet that happened all the same), Viktor turned around to where the Japanese men were still standing, stunned, and gave the Japanese skater a wink.

At that point, Yuri was already at the point of not knowing who he was, or how he got there, or anything really.

Because Viktor Nikiforov just did that.

"Did Viktor Nikiforov just do that?"

Yuri didn't even look at the reporter when the older man asked the question. He stared at the Russian man warming up on the ice. It was like talking with Yuri got rid of his nervous energy and he seemed to have a certain _thrilled_  aura about him. Bluntly put, Yuri was confused. 

In the year leading up to this moment, Yuri had done plenty of soul searching. After his crushing defeat and subsequent failed meeting with his idol, he reevaluated his life. In Hasetsu, he had come to find stock in his personal motivations: family, comfort, simple things. And with the restructuring of his goals, he finally set aside the posters of Viktor months prior. This decision had come after a conversation with his sister; she had confronted him about what he really wanted in the long term, and he finally had to admit that he didn't know. When she pressed, it boiled down to what had been driving him before, and that was skating on the same ice as Viktor. Now that that wasn't happening, she pressed further about his thoughts on his future and his feelings on the Russian man.

Viktor would always be his idol, always. He still felt butterflies watching his skates, and he still kept up with news about the Russian hero. He would always fall in love with the expressions he made while on the ice, and secretly he would still fantasize about what it would be like to talk to the man. But it wasn't fair to keep going back to that moment back in Sochi. So, he focused his efforts on dancing with Minako. He became a staple at Yu-topia. He helped the Nishigoris out with skating lessons for the locals. He was partly so busy because he was in a way distancing himself from Viktor Nikiforov and his past goals.

He frowned at the thought because it seemed that while he was doing so, Viktor was having some sort of revelation about Yuri himself? It felt impossible, but he had Morooka as witness, and there was just no denying the fact that Viktor just kept glancing over at him from the ice.

"Katsuki," Morooka interrupted his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

He must have read the expression on Yuri's face because, in fact, Yuri was not okay. His mind was going a mile a minute, trying to parse together everything that had happened today. The GPF barely had started, yet all his preparations for this day had gone out the window between Christophe and Viktor and whatever that was. 

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm not sure what just happened."

Morooka shot him a worried look. "Listen, I know beyond these events we have never talked much, but if you need someone to talk to, have my personal number."

He handed Yuri his business card with a written phone number at the back. Yuri took it silently. 

"Whatever happens, know that I still believe you can return to the ice," Morooka said. "I have to go now."

Yuri nodded to him as the other man left to the press area. He stood there a moment longer before turning to the ice. The skaters were still warming up. He could see Phichit, focused and oblivious to what had just transpired, and Christophe, spinning seductively in the distance. He saw the Russian Punk, Yuri Plisetsky, aggressively jumping, the Canadian skater waving to his fans, and the Kazakh skater, Otabek Altin, stretching on the ice. And of course, he could see Viktor, energetic and lovely, still occasionally glancing over to where Yuri stood. 

As with many things Yuri couldn't handle, he walked away. As he walked, Sara waved him over, but he apologized. Even though it was flattering that they wanted him to sit with them, he wanted to sit alone where he could gather his thoughts and still observe the skaters peacefully. So much had happened after all...

What had Viktor meant when he said his performance was for Yuri? Yuri, who hadn't completely cut off Viktor from his life, had seen his Short Program on TV already, and it was... It was something heady, all right. Viktor surely hadn't meant _that_  program? And his Free Skate was so emotionally charged, Yuri doubted it was that one as well. No, Viktor must have gotten it wrong. Or maybe he changed his programs for the Final. It was rare, but certainly not unheard of. And if anyone were to switch up his routines, it would be Viktor since he _was_ world champion. 

Yuri was lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the announcement for the first skater, Phichit Chulanont. 

As usual, Phichit took to the ice with a grin, but the fresh determined look on his face reminded Yuri how proud he was to be there skating the theme to his favorite movie. Yuri remembered talking to him the week leading up to the Final, and the Thai skater admitting how excited he was to skate for his country. Yuri felt a rush of affection for his friend.

But in light of what had just happened, Yuri also felt something twisting in his stomach as he watched his friend do a perfect spin. Phichit knew what he wanted, and he was _doing_ it. He was making a name for himself so that he could spread the love for ice skating in Thailand. It was something admirable. It was something Yuri envied.

Yuri watched as Phichit performed a quad, the twisting in his stomach getting worse. He was so proud of his friend, but...

When the Thai skater finished with tears in his eyes, Yuri shot up from his seat and cheered. He decided to think about his feelings later on. It wasn't fair to his friend to dwell on those things while he was performing. He rushed over to congratulate the Thai skater, but after only quick greetings, Phichit was being ushered away to the Kiss and Cry and then to the press.

Yuri was able to return to his seat just as the second skater, Yuri Plisetsky, was about to begin. For some reason, the Russian boy glared in the direction of Yuri, but Yuri doubted he actually was looking at him. He politely clapped as he was sure it was just his way of squinting under the lights. Or maybe he always just looked like that. 

Or maybe he really was glaring at Yuri.

The young Russian's music began and it was clear that the choreography was meant to resemble the soft nature of the tune. However, there was just something in the way Plisetsky aggressively approached each move that detracted from it. The boy seemingly got frustrated, too, which showed in his expression. 

It was a shame because, as Yuri noticed, Plisetsky was nailing his moves technically. Yuri remembered the boy yelling at him in the bathroom the year before and thought that the blonde might be happy for Yuri's break--not that it would have mattered. He probably wouldn't have even made the GPF with Yuri Plisetsky against him. Because even if components score may be affected, he was still doing a fantastic job with his senior debut.

He sighed as he watched Plisetsky land yet another quad. Now, that was something Yuri couldn't do; it was something to remind him of his failed goals, but... but he thought of how he felt during Phichit's performance, and the envy was coming back full force. Something in Yuri Plisetsky's nonverbal goading, in the look he was giving towards Yuri before skating, it felt like a challenge.

Suddenly, as if the boy knew what Yuri was thinking, there was a shift in the Russian's skating. It seemed to tell Yuri, "Look at me! Don't you want to beat me? Don't you wish you were on this ice?"

But Yuri shook the thought away. As if he could be so conceited to think that the Russian Punk would single _him_  out like that.

Still, he might not have been targeting him, but it certainly was speaking to Yuri like that. By the end of the boy's SP, Yuri admitted to himself that--yes, he did miss ice skating competitively. He still missed the opportunity to skate on the same ice as such talented skaters as Yuri Plisetsky and Viktor Nikiforov. The realization made him heart jump.

He didn't look at the blonde exiting the rink as he mulled these thoughts over. This day was already too much.

And so as Yuri watched the rest of the SP performances with a blank eye, he gradually wished more and more to join the other professional skaters. He watched as Chris seduced the audience and Otabek draw in the audience with his demeanor. He sympathized with JJ as he saw the man fall to his nerves of the GPF. He remembered feeling the same way on the ice and joined in wholeheartedly as the crowd cheered him back up. Nobody deserved to be left hanging like he had felt last year.

Then, all too soon, it was Viktor's turn. 

The announcer spoke over the loudspeaker, "Five time GPF champion Viktor Nikiforov will be skating to 'On Love: Eros.'" Yuri vaguely registered that _eros_  was on romantic, sexual love. So the Russian hadn't actually changed his program.

In the midst of his epiphany while watching the other skaters, he had forgotten what Viktor had said earlier. Now that he saw the man enter the center of the rink, his memory and confusion had returned full force. He thought of what Viktor said, trying to write it off. But he looked more into what Viktor was doing on the ice. Similar to what had happened with the younger Russian, Viktor seemed to be looking at where Yuri was sitting, but he just couldn't be too sure.

Then, Yuri couldn't deny the wink he threw at him. It was a carbon copy of what he had done when Yuri and Morooka were staring after him and Yakov.

"Please watch me on the ice today," Viktor had said.

As if he could do anything but.

So, when the guitar strumming began, he took in every bit of sensuality of his tongue grazing over his lips, of Viktor's opening arm movements, passing over his hips, reaching out to the air. His body and his movements were calling to Yuri, saying "This is for you. This is for you. _This is for you._ "

And it hit Yuri that Viktor had really meant it when suddenly Viktor locked eyes with him and _kissed_  the air at Yuri.

Huh?!

As Viktor moved into a step sequence, Yuri couldn't help his initial reactions, _D-damn, he's so hot! It's enough to make even me, a man, pregnant!_

Only someone like Viktor Nikiforov could pull it off. 

_Such eros!_ Yuri thought as he watched Viktor jump into a quad and land cleanly. He transitioned beautifully before getting ready for a jump combination. The twists and turns seemed to match whatever was going on in Yuri's stomach.

It was seductive; it was beautiful. It was a swan song calling Yuri to take to the ice.

Every so often, amidst the turns, Yuri would get the feeling that Viktor was looking at him. It was as if he was checking that he was there watching him, that he was luring Yuri in with his moves. Whatever he was doing, it was working, and in his confusion, Yuri reminded himself of Viktor's earlier words... 

"My performance...it's for you."

Yuri's face heated up as Viktor skated a sexy step sequence, emphasizing the move of his hips and turn of his waist. God, how was this at all for him? Was Viktor that much of a playboy or was he simply mistaken? What on earth had made Viktor think, _that Yuri Katsuki, I'm going to dedicate my SP to him_? It was impossible, but--flattering. As Viktor went into another jump, Yuri couldn't help but admire that this was a skate he really did enjoy.

The program had a more complicated step sequence than Yuri had expected. It was something he probably would have had fun skating himself if he could get over the embarrassment. Yuri imagined himself trying to seduce the audience with it; he didn't think he could with so many people, but if there was only one... If he was skating for someone in particular... His face flared up as he suddenly had a thought that maybe that was what Viktor was doing.

Well--now there's one more Nikiforov routine to potentially practice and skate to back home.

Viktor's skate was coming to a close and he spun beautifully into a final position in which he hugged himself. The final position was just as alluring at the rest of the skate as Yuri took in the flushed face, the damp hair sticking to his forehead. He stared as the man slowly unraveled himself and looked up--straight at Yuri. The heat in his gaze was overwhelming. He was sweating and panting and staring at Yuri so intensely that nobody in the stadium could miss just who he was looking at. It was a conversation that Yuri was surprised to be a part of. Yuri's blush intensified under his stare.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Viktor turned his head and started skating away off the ice. Overhead, Yuri dimly registered the commentator's brief discussion as the judges calculated the score. Yuri knew it would be the highest of all the short programs today. He was, after all, still reeling from how well it was executed.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice someone approach until he felt the shadow over him. He looked up and found himself underneath the glare of Yuri Plisetsky.

"Oy, Katsuki," he said brusquely. Yuri could barely get a word in edgewise before he was hoisted up by the boy. He had a surprisingly strong grip for someone his age. Then again, this was the Russian Punk.

"What--?" Yuri barely got out as the young Russian dragged him away from the ice and down a hallway.

"Shut up," the blonde bit out.

Yuri said nothing and let himself be dragged. He was getting a headache with all these sudden encounters. How come everyone was treating him so strangely today? 

They were winding down into another hallway, past curious onlookers and packed rooms. Plisetsky was stomping his way down, but Yuri could only barely register what was going on. He was still reeling from Viktor's SP, after all.

"Listen, I'm not doing this as any sort of favor," Plisetsky spat out. "But the old man is annoying. You're probably the only one who could get him to stop whining. God knows why he would be so obsessive over a coward like you."

Yuri bristled, but managed to ignore his insults in favor of focusing on the rest of his words. For some reason, he was starting to get the impression that Yuri Plisetsky was not as bad as he seemed. He certainly cared about whoever he was talking about.

"Who--?"

"Viktor, you dumbass! Of course I'm talking about Viktor. God, you've forgotten all about him then? Don't let him know that."

"I would never forget Viktor!" Yuri exclaimed unexpectedly. "He's-- _Viktor._ "

Plisetsky shot him a look backwards as he eased his grip a bit on Yuri's arm. "Yeah, well. Hero worship probably won't help here either. Not unless you truly love him or something."

Yuri blinked. His head started spinning at Yuri's words. What on earth was going on? What dimension did he live in that all these people thought he and Viktor were that close? And expected him to admire Viktor in the way that he had been for the past ten years of his life?

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it now. We're here."

The two Yuris arrived at the standing press room, the one that was less formal and for the skaters after they performed. Viktor was at the other end of the room, surrounded by a hoard of reporters. They all had microphones in his face, and they were asking rapid-fire questions.

"How do you feel about setting the bar for other skaters to reach once more?"

"You seemed more passionate than any other performance today--any reason why?"

"What were you thinking about during today's skate?"

"What were you trying to say with your performance today?"

At this question, Viktor leaned into the reporter's microphone. He suddenly looked serious and licked his lips before saying, "The routine is all about seduction, about love gained and lost. It's the story  I wanted to call to...my love. I wanted to pull him in and never let go."

The whole room exploded as soon as he pulled away. Yuri wondered if who the Russian man was talking about, as based on his social media and tabloid following, the only one who seemed close to him was his dog, Makkachin. Of course, he could be private with that sort of thing like Yuri was, but somehow he didn't think Viktor was like that. There was another alternative, based off his comments to Yuri earlier, but Yuri didn't dare allow himself to think about the impossible.

"Yuri!"

Yuri blinked out of his thoughts. He assumed Viktor was excited to see his rinkmate, but when he turned to his young kidnapper, the young blonde was no where to be seen. Yuri was all alone. With Viktor. And a dozen reporters. 

Magically, Viktor had took three long, gliding steps to reach Yuri and pull him in for a hug. Yuri would have thought that impossible with all the reporters so closed in around him. As Viktor grasped him tighter, refusing to let the Japanese man go, Yuri heard the questions barking at them from all around. 

"Is this who you were referring to? Is this your lover?"

"Is that Yuri Katsuki, Japan's top skater?"

"Yuri, how do you feel about Viktor's program being dedicated to you?"

"How long have you two been involved with each other?"

"Are you here for Viktor? Did you come to support him?"

"Viktor, are you going into retirement with Yuri Katsuki next season?"

Yuri startled at the question. Contrary to belief, he hadn't ever announced that he was retiring. Viktor apparently had the same thought as he pulled away, but kept a tight arm around Yuri. It squeezed with every word he spoke. Yuri felt dizzy because of it. 

"Apologies for speaking for Yuri, but if you had done your research, I don't believe he has announced anything yet," Viktor paused dramatically. "And neither have I. Now if you excuse us." 

Again, Yuri was steered by a powerful Russian. Only this time, instead of a young blonde gripping his arm tightly, it was an older, longer arm wrapped around his shoulders, guiding him away from the room and into the next waiting room, where it was quieter. The next room was small and had two doors--one to go back to the press room, and another leading somewhere unknown.

Yuri was suddenly aware of being _alone_  with his hero, seemingly trapped in a room.

"Technically, you're not supposed to be back here," Viktor murmured gently. "But I doubt anyone would care." He then looked at Yuri and startled at the nervous expression on the young man. "Do you--Do you not want to be here?"

Yuri swallowed in response. He could barely mentally prepare a response, but just as he got the courage to speak, Viktor continued anyway.

"Because if you want to leave, please tell me! That door goes to the warm up area, so if you don't--if you don't want to be here, I understand. I know my performance may be too much--Yura complains about it all the time--so if you don't want to talk to me, you can go. I know you haven't wanted to all year, but I just wanted you to _see_ and--"

"Wait."

Viktor shut up abruptly.

"What do you mean I haven't wanted to all year?" Yuri asked, latching onto the one thing he could make sense of. "Do you think I don't want to talk to you?"

Viktor cocked his head, now confused. "Do you?"

"You don't think I want to talk to you after last year?" Yuri asked, thinking of when he walked away after Viktor offered a photo. "You remember that?"

Viktor let out an incredulous laugh. " _Remember_ that? Yuri, that night is all I could think about these days."

He gaped. What on earth?

Viktor continued as his expression softened, "I can't stop thinking about our dance."

"Our...dance?" The words tasted foreign on his lips. Yuri suddenly had the feeling he was missing something big.

The Russian man swallowed, suddenly nervous again. "Look, if that night didn't mean anything to you, tell me now. I mean, I know you haven't contacted me since then, so you probably don't even care--"

" _Viktor_ , wait," Yuri pleaded again, suddenly getting a thrill from saying his name so casually. He wasn't making heads or tails of this, but he was getting the sense that Viktor felt for him similarly to how he felt for the older man. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the Japanese man finally.

"What do you mean?" Viktor asked.

"I mean, I don't know what _you_ mean by dancing with each other."

"Our--dance--the flamenco, after you beat Yura in the dance off," Viktor answered, his voice tapering a little at the end.

"What?"

"And then, with Chris--and, and you asking me to be your coach?"

" _What?_ "

"You don't remember?" Viktor asked lamely. His shoulders stiffened and a shield had seemed to go over his face. Suddenly, Yuri was overcome with desire to reverse everything he had just said. That expression looked so--

Lonely.

His heart sang in sympathy.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know when this was."

Viktor nodded. "Right. Well, you _were_  very drunk."

Yuri's eyebrows rose. "Drunk? The last time I got drunk was at--"

Oh. 

Sochi. The last GPF. He was at the banquet, and he was just so in despair over Vicchan and losing so miserably. He had wanted to be on the same level as Viktor so badly, but he had learned he couldn't. So he drunk himself under the table that night with champagne. No wonder he had woken up in his hotel room with a splitting headache and no pants on.

"I--did all that?"

Viktor looked away. "It doesn't matter. I understand that you were drunk."

"Viktor," Yuri pleaded. His desire to wipe that look from his idol's face was overwhelming him. "Viktor, I want nothing more than to remember that night right now. I want to know what made you want to skate like _that_  out there for someone like--someone like _me_."

"Someone like you?" Viktor asked. He sounded incredulous. "But you're Yuri Katsuki. The man whose spin sequences mesmerize me and all my rinkmates. The man who doesn't go much online, but clearly loves his friends and family from what does get posted. The man who could dance so beautifully and speak his mind so openly. The man who seems to think so little of himself, yet draw me in with everything he does. The man who made me fall in love last GPF."

Yuri gasped as Viktor took a step forward with each statement. With each step, Yuri's eyes widened a bit further. This close, he could smell the intoxicating scent of sweat and expensive cologne, and see every strand in Viktor's bangs. His blue eyes searched Yuri's face for _something_ , and he seemed to have found it because his expression settled into something soft and wondrous.

It was as if _Viktor_ was the one who couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yuri..." he said softly. "I've waited so long to see you..."

"I've waited a long time too," Yuri breathed out.

Viktor chuckled lowly, heat filling his laugh. The sound shot straight through Yuri as he shivered. It had just as much eros as his earlier performance.

Before Yuri could understand what was happening, Viktor was leaning in--when did he get so close?--and their lips barely grazed--

"OY!"

The sound shocked them out of the moment as they both jumped. They both turned to Yuri Plisetsky, who had slammed the door open and yelled not a meter away.

"Not sorry to interrupt--but Yakov is gonna have a heart attack if you don't finish up soon. He's pissed you ran out of the press room."

Viktor's demeanor instantly changed. He put on an innocently sly smile as he took in the younger Russian standing at the door.

He then said something in their shared language that Yuri couldn't understand, and the young blonde barked back in something that sounded mean no matter what language one spoke. Viktor barked out a laugh at whatever the boy said. Yuri wondered how close they were.

Yuri Plisetsky then turned to Yuri Katsuki.

"Piggy, if he doesn't convince you to come back to competition next season, I'll personally drag you from Japan to the next GPF."

"Kitty's got claws, it looks like," Viktor joked. Plisetsky only scowled at him and spun around angrily, his short ponytail whipping behind him.

Once the younger Yuri was out of the room, Viktor sighed. "Looks like duty calls."

Yuri eyed the older man who now looked weathered down once more. He still had an aura of happiness around him after what had transpired, but he seemed resigned to whatever was going on out there. Yuri remembered all the questions the reporters were asking him earlier, and all the rumors that had been coming up.

"Are _you_  going to retire?"

Viktor looked at him then and smiled. "I thought about it. Especially during the GPF and after you asked me to be your coach last year. It was tempting, considering I just didn't have inspiration, but then..." He looked at Yuri and grinned.

Suddenly, Yuri was pulled into another bear hug.

"But then I did. And I don't think I could keep going unless my source of inspiration did too..."

Yuri could read in between the lines. He knew what Viktor and the other Yuri were hinting at (or not so hinting at in the younger one's case). If the two of them were any closer, he probably would have joked a little or extended the teasing, but Yuri didn't know if he could keep the older man in seeming distress any longer. He held the Russian man tighter in return.

"Viktor...I had already decided that I was going to return a while ago. Before your skate."

"Really?!" The Russian man pulled back, still latched onto Yuri, but now able to read the Japanese man's face. Yuri, in turn, could read the utter joy that passed over Viktor's expression, and grinned in return. 

"Yes--I made my final decision today, but by the time Yuri--the other Yuri--was done skating, I had made up my mind for sure."

"Oh, Yura is going to love knowing that it was because of him," Viktor said wetly, a sob suddenly wracking through his body.

"Eh?! Are you crying?!"

"I can't help it," Viktor exclaimed. "I'm so happy right now."

Yuri stared at the man who apparently loved him after one night. Honestly, he couldn't help being happy either. Whatever notions Viktor had about him, whatever he thought about the Japanese man, well, he now had time to work that through. Because now that Viktor latched on, Yuri was in for the ride, and he wasn't letting go.

"Me too, Viktor. Me too."


End file.
